Living Weapon
by DemonRogue
Summary: He was a living weapon with a mind of his own, and he never let people forget that.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the Harry Potter books

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the Harry Potter books. J.K. Rowling owns all Harry Potter characters, places, etc. mentioned from the book series.**

**Summary: He was a living weapon with a mind of his own, and he never let people forget that.**

**Warning: Sex, Violence, Dark Themes, Language, **

**Pairings: Harry/Severus/Harry, Harry/Draco, Harry/Severus/Draco with side pairings of Ron/Hermione, **

**Living Weapon**

I am their living weapon, trained and honed to perfection not only by extensive training, but also by too many great expectations. I am their tool to the destruction of evil; a wicked madman and his followers who insist on purging the world of the 'unclean.' I am their instrument, easily played and manipulated. They pluck my strings – for I am their violin – and I am their Golden One, their Chosen One. I am the end result of a struggle to make the perfect song, the perfect warrior. I am their device, the one they throw into the thick of things because I am the weapon that will save them all. I am a means to an end, to a period of destruction and death, and when my purpose is served I will no longer be useful for I am only a weapon, and weapons are only useful if there is something to fight. Will there be something to fight?

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

**Dependence; the state of being dependent, as for support **

They all depend on me for one thing or another. The light side depends on me to fight and save them all from the horrible existence Voldemort presents. The dark side depends on me to die, plain and simple. Sometimes I think I prefer the latter to the former, but the good little Golden Boy can't have such thoughts. I am the living weapon they all depend on, after all. I must be the epitome of light and righteousness. They depend on me to be so.

They depend on me to be their solace. I am supposed to comfort them when it all gets to be too much. Some of them just want words – even empty ones – to renew their hope and push away their despair. This, I can give readily, for empty words have become a talent of mine. _It will be alright,_ I say to them, when I know that any one of them could die tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. _It will be over soon._ When in truth, I don't know when – if ever – it will be over, but they cling to those words. They take them in and let them give them hope, because they were uttered by their Golden One, their Chosen One, and he will save them all. They depend on words to take away the pain.

Some want to be held and touched by me. I am the one who will save them all, and a simple touch to the shoulder or elbow, or a brief hug will give them the strength they believe that will make it all go away. The pain and despair and death will all go away with a single touch from their weapon, their icon, their Chosen One, or so they believe. This, I am not as eager to do, but I do it all the same. It's all a false hope they receive, false strength they get, but it makes them feel like it will all be okay. Sometimes I feel like crushing that hope, telling them that touching me will do nothing for them, that my words will do nothing, because they are too weak and lazy to do anything for themselves. But that isn't their Golden Boy, and he doesn't speak such cynical words so I refrain from saying them.

Sometimes, though, I wonder if they can see it in my eyes because they shy away from looking into them. I wonder can they see the depth of accusation and bitterness, coldness and cynicism that has been bred from what I was forced to become for them. Can they see that I hold no more kindness for them, that I hold no positive feelings for the world any longer? Can they see that if I was so inclined, that I'd let them all burn in the hell they that refused to stop, and would, instead, put a boy – now a man – up to the task? Can they see that I would let them all die, if I was so inclined? Maybe so, and maybe that is the reason none look me in the eye. Maybe they are ashamed? Maybe they are afraid? Maybe they just don't care about what they created, as long as the job they created it for is done?

Dependence breeds cowards, and that is what the majority of them are. They are too cowardly to stand on their own, and decide, instead, to ruin a young boy's life to keep from doing anything themselves. Complete dependence is a dangerous thing, for it breeds laziness among people, and that laziness could very well destroy a population worse than anything else. And the Wizarding World is experiencing this the hard way.

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

**Understanding; the quality or condition of one who understands**

There are few I can speak to anymore, who will understand what I say. There are few who will let me speak my mind and not shy away from the venomous words that come forth from my mouth. There are few who understand what I have become, but those few _do_ understand, and that is all that matters. There are those who understand the living weapon, who shouldn't – but does – have a mind of its own. There are those who understand the person I have become, the person they – the world – created and that is a small blessing among the chaos that surrounds me.

Ron and Hermione don't understand it, but they don't question it either. They are too ashamed/afraid/uncaring to looking into my eyes as the others – the ones who _understand_ – are not. They give me the small pleasure of being around those who do understand, even if they – themselves – do not. I have not burned the bridges of our friendship; they were my first friends after all, and some things are just harder to replace. Instead I have altered it. I'm still their friend, and I still talk to them, but they know that they can't give me something that I desperately need: understanding. They know and they accept, even if they don't particularly like it. They owe me and they know it.

I found that understanding in the most unlikely of places, but I wasn't as surprised as I probably would have been before I changed. Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy, and the small faction of Slytherins who have decided to side against Voldemort. I won't say they are on our side, or the light side, because they are not, and there is no use saying any differently. But I have come to find that they understand me in a way that Ron and Hermione and others don't, while at the same time not understanding other parts of me at all. But its okay, because no one understands anyone fully and if someone understood me that much I'd be fucking speechless and wary of their sanity.

But Severus has helped in training me, and by that I mean he helped with teaching me what I needed to know to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters. At first we didn't get along at all, but I hadn't risen to any of his bait or insults and that confused him, as well as annoyed him I believe. I saw no point in doing so anymore; it wasn't worth it, just like so many other things. I remember when I first really talked to the man. I think he had been surprised by what I said, even if he didn't show it. It had been sixth year, near the middle of it.

**1**

I had been standing out in the rain in the late evening, just standing and letting the water soak me through with no care to anything else. I had been keeping myself hidden away somewhere all day, and knew that many were frantic to find me. I didn't care though. When it had started to rain just after what would have been dinner, I finally left my little haven and ventured outside. I've been standing in the rain ever since with my head tilted back, feeling each droplet hit me with small 'splat' sounds. I had been concerned about being left alone earlier, but now I don't hold much worry about being found.

"Potter!" the bellow came from behind me, but I didn't turn around. I already knew who it was by the voice. It was Severus Snape; potions professor, Order spy, and one of my magical trainers. He stormed in front of me and glared into my eyes with his cold, black ones. "Do you have any idea the whole staff has been looking for you all day? Do you not care that your little _disappearing acts_," he sneered, eyes narrowed dangerously. "has caused many to become frantic, you insolent brat?"

He was angry, I could tell that easily, but his anger didn't affect me. Not anymore, at least. I looked at him, looked directly into the black eyes as the rain continued to pelt me. I noticed he wasn't getting wet, and figured he'd cast a charm to prevent that.

"No," I said simply, calmly, and continued to look at him intensely. The briefest flash of surprise lit his eyes, I think, but it was gone too fast to really tell. He was back to glaring at me, his mouth in a tight line and his eyes once again narrowed.

"What did you say?" he hissed quietly, trying to intimidate me with his stance, his stare, but it wasn't happening. I simply stared back emotionlessly.

"I said 'no', I don't care if people were frantic with my absence," I replied shamelessly, feeling no need to lie to the man, to put up the mask of the good little Gryffindor at that moment. It was as if the rain was some type of truth serum.

"Oh? So you're too good to let people know where you are going to be, in case of an emergency? You're too arrogant for your own good, Potter, just like you're pathetic father and godfather," Snape spat viciously. I couldn't help it, I laughed at what he said causing another flare of surprise – and it was definitely surprise, as it was there a bit longer. I think he expected me to react in anger.

"Then maybe that is what will kill me someday, hmm?" I asked, amused. I didn't give him the chance to reply, though. "And they're only worried; because they want to make sure their weapon is within knowledgeable distance." I said with mild bitterness. I loved the rain and the way it felt, and it seemed to be keeping my emotions even duller than usual.

Snape's brows arched at this, and I looked at him briefly, wondering absently if his hair was really as greasy as it looked. I had an urge to touch it that I ignored completely. I doubt the man would approve at all.

"Do you believe yourself as such?" Snape asked. His tone was even, giving nothing away.

"A weapon? Yes. What else am I to them? An icon? Yes, I am that too, but within that icon I am still merely a weapon; a tool of power that will be used as a means to an end. Surely, you, Professor Snape, can see that?" I said, matching my tone to his. Snape was a Slytherin, and surely – _surely_ – he could see what I have been too blind to see up until recently.

Snape remained silent, but stared at me intensely. I stared back. I could feel the droplets of rain as they dropped onto my skin, and then trickled down my body. I could feel the slight wind that had picked up, and it was a bit chill, but nothing I couldn't take.

"That's a rather interesting thing to hear coming from a Gryffindor such as you, Potter," Snape drawled, still looking at me. I had the distinct feeling he was sizing me up, trying to calculate everything out. His black eyes were fixed on me, staring at me sharply, and I decided that was exactly what the man was doing.

"And that's where we let stereotypes take over," I said, shaking my head and knowing I have done much the same thing. I tilted my head back and stared up into the raining sky. "We are divided into these four houses and automatically we think we know a person just because they're in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Slytherin. We don't, though. The traits that put us in our houses are only a _part_of who we are as a whole. I've finally realized that, though I would say I did so a little too late. Even you, Snape, are guilty of falling into the trap of stereotyping."

There was silence after what I said, and I was tempted to look at Snape to see if the man was angry or thinking. I didn't, though, and continued to gaze at the sky. A summer of reflection and brooding will do a lot to a person. Left alone – basically – to my own devices, most the time all I had was my thoughts to keep me company, besides Hedwig, of course. Thinking, I have come to find, is a dangerous thing. I spent all of last summer thinking about things. The war, which led to thoughts of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, Sirius and my parents, Snape and Malfoy, and my friends were many things that kept my mind occupied. Reevaluation of myself and those around me has put many things into perspective for me.

"That is probably the most intelligent thing I have ever heard you say, Potter," Snape said evenly. I smirked, and then turned to look at him.

"No, it's probably the only intelligent thing you were willing to hear. Stereotyping, Snape, that's what I was saying," I said calmly, looking at the man steadily. Snape looked thoughtful for a moment, before he turned away from me to gaze off somewhere. There was silence for a long time, and for that period I just enjoyed the simplicity of being soaked by the rain.

"We will go and inform the Headmaster and your Head of House that you have been found, and then you will accompany me to my quarters. We will talk, Potter," Snape said finally, or more like commanded. I looked at him, and he looked back, daring me to challenge him on it.

"And if I said no?" I asked, more curious than anything else.

"I don't believe I'm giving you a choice, Potter," he drawled smoothly.

"There is always a choice, Snape, whether right or wrong, whether it's a choice we want to make or not. There is _always_ a choice," I countered, looking at him challengingly. His face hardened, and he seemed to be looking through me for a moment, before he focused back on me.

"You're looking for someone to understand you, Potter, whether you realize it or not. I would say you won't find it amongst your Gryffindor associates. They won't comprehend what you are thinking or feeling. A stereotype though it may be, I believe I am right in this instance," Snape said simply. But I did realize I was looking for understanding, I just wasn't going to actively search it out. I looked to Snape and nodded, and he nodded back. He turned in a flare of black robes and began heading back to the castle. I smiled faintly, before following behind him. This would prove to be an interesting night, I was sure of it.

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

After that night, Severus and I spent many nights together. Sometimes we just sat quietly together and sometimes we talked, waxing philosophical of anything and everything. He let me drink alcohol occasionally that he always provided. Within him, I found the understanding I'd been inactively seeking, and I'm sure he found something within me, though I'm not sure exactly what. But, we were by no means friends. Acquaintances, yes. Even reluctant companions would be more fitting than that of the term friends. We did, however, form a strange kind of bond. I couldn't have said then, what I thought would come of it, as it was still too new and – yes – raw, to make a guess. But in private, Severus and I were slightly different towards each other. But Severus was only one part of the equation. Draco Malfoy was the other.

Sixth year, I had basically ignored the blond Slytherin and all his attempts to get under my skin. Like Severus that year, I had decided it wasn't worth it and that I had better things to do with my time than fight with Draco. He wasn't a threat – at least in my eyes. He was just an annoying bully, trying to intimidate people, and I was through with it, but he was a little more vehement that year and it had a lot to do with his father being put away. He was angry and even more resentful towards me. And it annoyed and angered him even more that I wouldn't respond. But Malfoy was an irritating little bastard who wouldn't take the hint, and soon went from vitriolic words to outright violence, both magical and not. If he wasn't trying to hex me, he was trying to beat my face in.

I very quickly grew tired of it, though, and decided enough was enough. I had other things to think about – to worry about – then some spoiled, pampered brat who was acting the fool because he didn't get what he wanted. I had bigger things to worry about than Draco Malfoy. The event that would mark the change of things between us was in April, about three months after the winter break of our sixth year. Draco had cornered me at a time I had been walking around alone – which hadn't been an uncommon thing that year – obviously prepared for another of our fights. I, on the other hand, wasn't going to let it happen again.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

I had been traveling lazily along a usually abandoned corridor of the castle that had become a common haunt for me, when I was slammed rather forcefully into an adjacent wall. I gasped, feeling my shoulder jarred in a bad way, and then looked behind me to see none other than Malfoy stalking towards me. His eyes were blazing and he looked extremely tense and angry. He stopped in front of me and pinned my shoulders before I had a chance to even doing anything. I had had a growth spurt that summer, unlike Malfoy who hadn't grown much after fourth year. I was now an inch or two taller than him, which pissed him off even more, I have discovered from previous encounters.

I shook him off finally and shoved him back, making him stumble a bit. I glared at him, upset my solitude had been disturbed. "What the fuck do you want this time, Malfoy? Come to cry and bitch some more about your daddy being locked up? Get the fuck over it! I told I was sorry you had to lose your dad, but don't take it out on me. I'm so fucking tired of your childish behavior. We're on the brink of a bloody war, Malfoy, and I don't have time for you're shit," I spat, making sure I had my wand ready in case he tried to hex me. It would be the first time.

"It's your entire fault, Potter!" he yelled at me. "It's your entire goddamn fault. You couldn't just not play the hero could you, you selfish prat? Because of you wanting to save that pathetic, criminal of a godfather of yours, my father ended up in jail. And now my life is completely _fucked_because of you!" Malfoy sneered. His hand twitched for his wand, and I went for mine, bringing it out and pointing it at Malfoy a second before he pointed his at me.

"Cry me a bloody river, Malfoy. So what? Your rich, perfect little life is shattered. Get over it! Bad things happen to everyone, you're not the first, and it's no worse for you," I snapped back, thoroughly tired of his woe-is-me attitude. I'vegot to save the bloody world, but I'm not crying and bitching over it. I'm bitter, yes, but I'm going to get over it and deal with. That's how life works and Malfoy needs to understand that.

"You've got no clue how bad it is for me," Malfoy hissed, clenching his wand and trembling. I looked at him – really looked at him – and realized that he had a wild, sort of desperate and hunted look in his eyes. Haunted, too. I was curious, despite my anger towards the prat. I'd never seen him look like this before. "You go around all high and mighty because you're the Boy-Who-Lived, but you don't think about what us Slytherins have to deal with, do you? No, you don't, because we're all just a bunch of Dark Wizards and Death Eaters in the making, right? Well, fuck you Potter! You don't know anything about us."

I stared at him, honestly confused about where this outburst came from. Usually, our little meeting consisted of more fighting than talking with the spare few 'I hate you's' thrown in. this was different, and it really had me interested. "Malfoy, I think I know a bit more about Slytherins than you think. I know the majority of you, if not all of you, wear masks to hide your true selves. You don't want to present any possible weaknesses to anybody, but especially to potential enemies. So you hide. I'm sure there's a lot more going on behind the mask of each and every Slytherin, but no one will ever know what it is, because you guy's don't want to leave yourselves vulnerable. Am I wrong so far?" I asked, enjoying the disbelieving look on the blond's face. People think I'm too self-absorbed to notice things around me, but I'm not. I've taken my time to study the people in each House, to learn what makes them fit for that House and whatnot. Slytherin – and more specifically, Malfoy – are no exception to this.

"I know something else about your House, Malfoy. Or, I learnt something about it, I should say. You're not in Slytherin because you are a product of evil, a candidate for evil, or any other such nonsense that many believe," I said, looking the other boy straight in the eye. I still hand my wand raise, because this was Malfoy, after all, and you could never be too careful. "Myself included, though I have changed my views. You're in Slytherin because your strongest traits are being ambitious and cunning; the marks of a Slytherin. If your strongest traits had been a thirst for knowledge you would have been a Ravenclaw. If it had been loyalty and a will for justice, it would have been Hufflepuff. If it had been bravery and such, it would have been Gryffindor. The fact is, Malfoy, that everyone has each of those traits within them, but we are sorted because of our strongest traits and put into the House that will help us grow the best." I said all this calmly and in a soft, confident tone, because I honestly believed that. Malfoy was looking at him completely shocked now, his arm faltering and wand dropping a bit. It was a sight to see.

"What the fuck, Potter? Where'd all that come from?" Malfoy asked, still a bit shocked. Then, I saw him regain a bit of his fire. "So, what, you think you know a bit about us Slytherins and that you automatically know it all?! Well, you don't! You're still a self-righteous Gryffindor," he sneered, but I simply sighed and rolled my eyes. This was becoming tiresome.

"And there you go, hiding behind anger because you're unsettled and uncomfortable. What do you really want, Malfoy? I'm tired of this conversation and want to continue my nice, quiet walk in peace," I said, lowering my arm down to my side. All of sudden his rage came back full force, and he pointed his wand at me, staring at me with an intensity that unnerved me a bit. But only a bit, because once you get used to stares like that from Dumbledore or Voldemort, you don't really get unnerved by others doing it.

"I want you to pay for how you've ruined my life," Draco snarled, and all at once that look – desperate, hunted, and haunted – came back into his eyes, shining even more fiercely than before. "I want you to _pay_." Still, he didn't make a move to hex me. He just stood there with that look in his eyes, body trembling and wand arm unsteady.

"You want me to pay for what?! You've been spouting that shit all year, Malfoy, but what makes this time any different, huh?" I asked, fed up and tired with the Slytherin's behavior.

"This time is different because I wasn't lined up to become the Dark Lord's whore!" he snarled, and then gasped, eyes going wide and hand going nerveless. His wand fell to the floor with a clatter, but all I could hear were the last three words of what he'd said. _Dark Lord's whore_. They rang in my mind like an echoing bell, and I could do nothing but watch as Draco Malfoy – calm, cool and collected Draco Malfoy – fell to his knees and just broke down in front me. Tears filled his eyes, clouding them over, and his body shook and jerked with sobs he was obviously trying to repress. I watched him for a moment as he pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them. My shock was soon overcome though.

Everyone had a breaking point, no matter what it was, and even the toughest, most hardened of people had one. No mask could hide it once it's gotten a hold of you. It's like a disease, and no matter how much you try to bury it and push it away, it will still slowly eat at you until you acknowledge it. And that is when you break and shatter into a million tiny pieces that, once put back together, may not resemble what was there before you broke. I should know, as this summer I finally broke. It wasn't Sirius's death that did it, though that had been a heavy blow. It was the prophecy. It was just too much added on top of everything else. I broke and I put myself back together, but I wasn't the same. I was jaded and cynical, and I had changed. I knew it. And Malfoy? Malfoy finally broke. His burden had become too much to bear in silence, and the blond broke, in front of me, Harry Potter. The old me might have been delighted to see Malfoy like this – the circumstances of how he got this way aside – but now I cant feel even the slightest shred of happiness.

I pocketed my wand and looked at Malfoy, who still sat huddled on the floor. The sad thing about this, though? I feel no remorse that this happened. It isn't my fault that Malfoy's father chose to side with Voldemort. It isn't my fault he got caught at the Department of Mysteries, and isn't my fault that Voldemort is a sick and depraved individual. What I do feel remorse for, though, is that Voldemort was doing something like this. Malfoy or not, this is just wrong. I sighed and crouched down next to the blond. I eyed him for a long moment, before placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but I was undaunted.

"Malfoy," I said quietly, trying to get his attention. "Look at me." He looked up after a moment, face a dark pink and eyes red and puffy. He looked a mess. I took a deep breath, wondering how things got so turned around. "Talk to me, Malfoy, tell me what happened," I said in a calm tone. He looked at me blankly, and then scowled.

"Like you care, Potter," he growled, pulling away from me and trying to compose himself. "Like you fucking care what happens to me, or any other Slytherin."

"Believe it or not, Malfoy, but I don't think anyone – you, or any other Slytherin – should have to be put in a position like that. That is, if you're telling the truth," I said coolly, standing up and backing away. I did believe him though. Malfoy, while good at hiding his emotions was complete shit at lying and acting. You couldn't fake the look he had had in his eyes unless you truly felt that way. I just wasn't going to tell him that.

"It's none of your business, Potter. I shouldn't have said anything to begin with, it was a mistake," Malfoy said, almost fully back to his calm, cool self.

"That may be, but you came after me, Malfoy, _me_. No matter why you did. And you blurted it out in front of me," I said, not planning to mention him breaking down. There were just some things you didn't repeat. "Now, I see two options here. You can tell me about what you said before, or I can drop the fact that you that you have the Dark Mark to the wrong people," I said. He lifted an eyebrow, but I saw the spark of surprise and something else in his eyes for the briefest moment. I only knew he had it because I had – by accident – slipped into Voldemort's mind over the summer and was coincidently 'present' for Malfoy's initiation. I know Snape and Dumbledore must know, but they haven't said anything and neither have I.

Malfoy scoffed. "You're more delusional than I thought. Why would I risk such a thing in a school full of people loyal to Albus Dumbledore? That would be idiocy and I am much smarter than that, Potter, unlike you, who seem to barely use his brain."

I said nothing, but stared at him steadily. I have the upper hand here and Malfoydoesn't know it, but he's willing to hide behind that mask to get out of this. I wasn't letting him. Quickly, I pulled out my wand and pointed it at him. He flinched – just barely – probably expecting me to hex him. Instead, I said the spell to make his wand come to me, and then one to make things disappear and vanished the sleeve of his left arm. Then, I canceled the Concealment Charm on his forearm and looked pointedly at the Dark Mark. "You sure you're not that stupid?" I asked simply, pulling my eyes up to look at a shocked Malfoy. He looked like he didn't know what had happened. One minute he had the upper hand – or so he thought – and the next he didn't, when all along I was the one with the advantage.

"You bastard, Potter!" Malfoy snarled, finally regaining some of his composure. I felt like making a comment to that, but I held my tongue. Good thing I did, because next thing I knew Malfoy was lunging at me. I stepped back on one foot to brace myself, but when he crashed into me, I went down anyway and the wands I had held went flying from my hand. We wrestled from there, each of us trying to pin the other down and get the upper hand. Truth be told, I wasn't trying too hard, though I know I should have been. He had anger behind him and I had nothing but my indifference that had been coming more frequently and for longer periods of time. He had something fueling him. I didn't, but I ended up pinning him to the stone floor anyway. "Let me go, you bastard mudblood! Let me go!" he yelled, bucking and struggling under me. I knew better, though, after being in this position many times before with Dudley. I knew how to hold a person down. I tightened my grips on his wrists and twisted them a little – not enough to hurt badly, but enough to get his attention.

"You can struggle and insult me all you want, Malfoy, but you need to get this out of your system. It's going to eat you alive if you don't talk about it and release it," I said, staring down at him. It was the truth; after I got over Sirius's death – in which I ranted loudly and violently at Grimmauld Place when I was brought there that summer – I had felt better. I was still upset that Sirius was gone and that we had such little time together, but I knew that the pain and emotional turmoil wouldn't be so strong and damaging anymore. I lost a lot of emotions I had bottled up after doing that, and I knew that that was what Malfoy needed right then.

"You fucking asshole, Potter! I hate you, I _hate_ you! It's all your fault, damn it and I'm going to make you pay for this," he yelled, twisting under me still. I would have been worried about someone coming, but I knew for a fact that this corridor wasn't used at all. In fact, it was a good portion of this floor that wasn't used. "You fucking _bastard-_" and his voice broke on the word, his struggling faltered and stopped, and I knew. When I went through this, I was all fiery anger and smoking brimstone. You couldn't say anything to calm me. That was, until I broke. Anger can hold up only so long, before what you're hiding behind it breaks free. Malfoy just broke. "How could this happen?" he said, voice almost a sob. I said nothing, because it was best to be silent and let a person vent.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this, damn it. I was supposed to join the Death Eaters, be the best of them all – even better than my father. I wasn't supposed to be shunted to being his whore! It's not how it's supposed to be! And what's worse? I was promised to him last year. My parents basically gave me to him," Malfoy said. I continued to look at him. He was shaking and had tears running down his cheeks and a far-off look in his eyes. "My mother explained it all to me. As long as I produce an heir, she said, it didn't matter that I would become some common whore. It's not right, not right at all. _What did I do to deserve this?!_" the wail was only slightly unexpected, I mean, this is Malfoy after all. Malfoy having a break down, but still, it was Malfoy. From there the Slytherin just cried with the occasional broken-sounding sob or wail. I let his wrists go, but let him get it out, knowing he wouldn't move and knowing he needed this. After a moment, I got up off of his thighs and sat down beside him, watching him curl up into a ball.

I sat and watched him as he rode it all out. It may have been cruel to sit, watch and do nothing, but that's how it is. This is still Malfoy, I still dislike him and he still hates me. That is the bottom line here. I watched as he calmed down and sat up, blinked, and then licked his lips. He looked at me, pale and drawn with red eyes, and then turned his head, trying to recompose himself. Finally, though, he just gave up and slumped his shoulders, looking completely and utterly defeated. Looking like the broken boy he really was. I sighed and looked at him, even though he wasn't looking at me.

"You don't want that – to be Voldemort's whore, I mean," I stated, pointedly ignoring his flinch at the name. He glared weakly, but I continued. "And you have no choice, really. Your parents basically contracted you to him."

"What's the bloody point, Potter?" he muttered, sounding as exhausted as he looked.

"Talk to Snape, Malfoy," I said, nodding at his incredulous stare. "Talk to him and tell him what's going on and what you want – or don't want." I don't know if Snape or Dumbledore know about this, but Snapewould do something for his favorite student. "Don't say anything to me, just talk to him." he was still looking at me like I was crazy, but I ignored it, picked up my wand and rose, brushing off my pants. With a small wave I turned and began walking away. My work is done here. Malfoy was given something to think about. I was probably halfway down the hall when he called me.

"Hey, Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"I still hate you…but thanks," the second part was said almost to low to hear, but I just barely caught it. I smiled to myself but didn't turn around.

"Right back at you, Malfoy…and you're welcome," I replied, and then continued on my way.


	3. Chapter 3

After that day my life just took on a subtle weirdness

After that day my life just took on a subtle weirdness. That incident with Draco was before my little incident with Severus, and I still wonder if one hadn't really prompted the other in some unrecognizable way. Neither Slytherin has ever told me, but then again, I've never asked either. Things between me and Draco didn't really change much after that day. It wasn't some overnight change between us. He still insulted me and I still ignored his attempts at riling me up, but there had been a subtle, almost unnoticeable, difference in the blond after that little meeting. I didn't know what it was, but it was there all the same.

The rest of the year pretty much passed in the same fashion, though I did take notice of the thoughtful looks Draco focused on me sometimes. I wondered about them, but didn't give too much thought to it. I had also caught Severus giving me, well, _unreadable_, looks now and then that made me curious, but that I ultimately ignored. Whatever was behind it would either come out with time, or stay buried just as long. Worrying and wondering too much was pointless. So I continued to focus on my training.

But, as I said, whatever was behind the looks would either come out or not. And I was right. About two weeks before the end of the school year Draco approached me again when I was on my own. That time he didn't attack me head on, but casually approached me.

**3**

I leant my back against the tree as I waited for Malfoy to approach me. He had followed me, quietly shadowed my path, and then called me out. I had been walking through the part of the forest that separates the school from Hogsmeade, having left my friends to whatever they came up with to do. I had known the blond was following me, but I hadn't bothered to let on that I knew. I had walked, as he followed, and waited for him to reveal what it was he wanted. And now I watched as he approached me and took up post leaning against the tree opposite me. I raised a single eyebrow in silent question. Silence filled the slightly chill air that was June's weather, and hung between us in an almost comfortable fashion.

"How do you always play the hero so effortlessly, Potter? You do things without seeming to know what you're really doing, yet knowing the outcome before anyone else does. And why help me, of all people? I just don't get you," Malfoy said, shaking his head slightly.

"I wasn't trying to help you, specifically, Malfoy," I said, wanting to set the record straight. "I don't think anyone deserves the fate that you were presented with. Even if you – god, forbid – adored Voldemort, I can't see being his concubine as an easy life. The man is sadistic to the extreme, and I don't care how tough a person is or how tough _you_ think you are; taking that path would have left you or anybody else a worthless, empty shell abused into submission for the pleasure of a madman. No one – _not even you_– deserves that." I was firm in my explanation, because I didn't want Malfoy thinking I had been trying to save him. I hadn't, because I would have done the same for anyone else whether they be Slytherin or whatever.

"That may be so; Potter, but you directed me to Snape. Why direct me to talk to him? Why not Dumbledore?" Malfoy pressed not moving from his casual lean.

I sighed and decided to go for mostly truth. "If I had told you to go to Dumbledore, you would have thought I was recruiting you for the light side. By telling you to go to Snape, you had someone on your own level," I said looking at him head on. It was the truth, but what I left out was that I knew _Snape_would lead him in the right direction – I had mostly overcome my suspicions of his loyalty to the light – and, if not recruit him for the light side, at least help him escape his fate. It was manipulation, because Malfoy didn't know that I knew that Snape was now a spy for the light. Malfoy had probably thought he was a Death Eater flat out.

Malfoy tilted his chin up and to the right, looking at me through narrowed eyes. I looked back blandly, unimpressed and not intimidated in the least. "I know you've heard the rumors of Snape being a Death Eater in the first war," he said. I made no indication of anything to his statement and he continued on. "Why direct a Death Eater about to become the Dark Lord's toy, to another Death Eater, especially since I am _against_becoming some human sex toy? Unless you knew something about Snape that made you sure it was okay to tell me to talk to him," he said in the same conversational tone.

"Even if I did," I began, looking at him steadily. "what makes you think I would put any trust in a man who has treated me so horribly? A man that I believe is nothing but an evil bastard capable of nothing but cruelty? Even if I did know something, I still don't trust Snape," I said. It was mostly true. I still had a small part of me holding back from giving the man my full trust.

Malfoy's expression turned thoughtful, but was no less calculating. I watched him as he thought and looked at me carefully. I had taken Snape's teachings from the beginning of the year when he started training me and put them to use. I had done what the man said and believe I'll be all the better for it, though I'll never tell him that.

_In a confrontation of any kind that you don't wish to give anything away in, hide in plain sight, Potter. If you're asked something that's not really a question, switch things around and trap the other person into thinking something else. If this doesn't work or you're too incompetent to manage it, than trick them with logic and reason. That is what I'll be teaching you and you better focus and learn it, Potter, because I'm not here to waste my time,_Snape had told me not long after I first discovered who would be helping in my training. It was between Snape and Dumbledore that I got the knowledge I have now, which is still growing on a daily basis.

"You've changed, Potter, and I can't figure you out," Malfoy said, changing the topic. "I noticed it from the beginning of the year that you're different."

"Is there a point to this, Malfoy, or are you just here to tell me how I've changed?" I asked impatiently.

"There is a point, Potter, and it's this: I've been watching you – _closely_– and I've noticed some things about you, things probably done unconsciously on your part, but there nonetheless. Did you know I was there, about a week ago, out in the stands while you were on the Quidditch pitch?" Malfoy asked. My eyes widened, because if I was thinking correctly, than I know exactly what day he was talking about. Malfoy smirked at me. "It was night, well past curfew, but you were out there anyway. I had wondered why, but as I watched you, the 'why' began to mean nothing. You're sixteen, Potter, yet you possess all that power at your finger tips. What's the point of all this, Potter? You're powerful, and yet you don't abuse it. I see now you could have put me in my place any time, but you didn't. I'm not following the Dark Lord, Potter, but I will follow you. Not the Order or Dumbledore, but _you_."

I gaped at him, floored by this turn of events. Little shocked me anymore – after a face stuck to the back of another person's head, fighting a basilisk, rats and dogs and werewolves, dragons and merfolk and watching someone die, being possessed and losing a loved one in a situation that never should have happened if I hadn't been so impulsive; nothing much shocked me anymore. But this shocked me. "Malfoy," I said slowly, once I'd gotten my bearings, because Malfoy looked completely serious, even a bit eager, about what he had said. "I don't want followers," _a lie, all lies! Don't deny that you haven't thought about having people at your whim._ "I just didn't want you becoming some mindless fuck-toy."

Malfoy sighed, but the smile never left his lips, which was seriously interesting, if a bit disturbing. "Potter, there's very little choices for me left, that will still leave me with dignity. I won't run I refuse to do so. I won't go into hiding either. It may for some people – and I'm not slighting anyone who chooses such an action – but it doesn't work for me. That leaves me only two options, really. Become the Dark Lord's toy and live with it, or join you. As it stands, you're the lesser of two evils."

I rubbed my head and looked up, through the branches and at the small patches of sky I could see. What have I gotten myself into, no, really? I was trying to save someone from a _really_bad fate, and this is what I get? Snape was in for a fucking _talk_and I didn't care what would happen to me. He was supposed to help Malfoy so the blond didn't spend the rest of his days on his back for a monster. What the hell happened? "Malfoy, I don't know what Snape told you, or talked to you about, but this is ridiculous. You hate me. Wouldn't it just be easier to go into the Order's protection?"

Malfoy chuckled and shook his head. "Potter, you don't even see it, do you? You are going to be a force to be reckoned with, if you aren't already. I'd rather be in your corner than the Dark Lord's or the Order's. As much as I've listened to things my mother and father said; it seems you are the other major player in this war, not Dumbledore. You may not want followers, Potter, but you've got them," Malfoy said, before turning and beginning to walk away. I watched him go, confused by what had just happened. This was _not_what I had been expecting and Snape was going to have some explaining to do. Oh yes, he was.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / /

Well I did confront Snape after that, that night to be exact. I was confused and angry and wanted answers. And damn it I was going to get them! But the answers I got that night weren't what I had expected. I knew Snape wouldn't make it easy, but he can be a real bastard when he wants to.

After entering Snape's private rooms and taking off my invisibility cloak, I immediately glared at the man who sat in a chair by the fire with a glass of scotch in hand. He looked up at me and simply quirked an eyebrow like the infuriating bastard he is. I flicked my hand back, hard, and cast a Silencing Charm on the room, as well as a Locking Charm and an Imperturbable Charm. I hadn't moved my glare from the bastard through all this.

"Impressive," he said dryly, lifting one side of his mouth in a smirk. Bastard, no, really he is.

"I sent Draco Malfoy to you because Voldemort wanted to make him his personal fuck-toy and an easy and accessible hole for his personal use. So, why the fuck did he just come to me talking about following me? What the fuck did you tell him?" I demanded, snatching the other glass of scotch from the table and downing half of it without thought. I resumed my glaring, hoping behind hope I could glare a hole through the bastard's forehead.

"Your language is as appalling as ever, Potter, and your crudeness is still an ever present partner to it," Snape drawled, before taking another sip of his scotch. "And you're wasting expensive scotch by drinking it like a common drunkard. Haven't I taught you better? And what's this about Mr. Malfoy?"

I gritted my teeth and briefly entertained the idea of casting _Crucio_on the man, just to see him try and be all high and mighty then, but shook the thought from my head. What the hell? These thoughts were coming more frequent lately, and I wasn't sure what to think of them. "Don't skip around the damn subject, Snape. Malfoy; I sent him here to you for help and he comes back to me speaking of following me and whatnot. What the bloody fucking hell did you say to him?" I hissed, clenching the glass tightly, before loosening my grip and taking a pointed, mocking sip from it.

"I didn't tell him anything, Potter, but I did present him with the idea that he had choices. What he chose was of his own free will. I merely stated the obvious for him; that he could stay with the Dark Lord and become his concubine, or choose his own path, one separate of what his parents had planned for him. Do you really think I would just lay out what I think the boy should do and demand he follow it? What was it you said to me? 'We all have choices, whether there right or wrong, or whether there choices we want to make?' I believe that is what you said," Snape said, giving me a look that was just this side of smug. Bastard, throwing my words back at me like that.

I sneered at him and sat down with more grace than most would consider me having. I took another sip of my scotch – which was truthfully very good; the burn a pleasant thing – and sighed. As much as I hate to admit it – even, if only to myself – Snape had a point. He wouldn't have chosen a course of action for Malfoy; he would have let him choose his own. "Then why did he offer his allegiance to me? To _me_, Snape; not the Order or Dumbledore, or – hell – even _you_. Why me?"

Snape silently sipped his drink and watched me with those intense black eyes that could be unnerving if I let them. I didn't. I merely cocked an eyebrow and stared back. He licked his lips, and then dropped his lids to half mast; a would-be seductive look if the man was more attractive. Not to say, that is, that he _isn't_attractive. He is in his own way. "In order to understand Malfoy's motives, you need to understand how he thinks, Potter. He grew up with the ideal that pureblood supremacy was law, that his mother and father knew best for him and that the Dark Lord was the path to pureblood rights and rule. He believed in all of this and still does – mostly – up until this past winter break when he found out his parents were signing him over to be the Dark Lord's consort without much care for what he thought. Finding that out, his world shattered before him. He was a pureblood from one of the oldest families; did he not deserve a better position? He is lost right now. He is, Potter," Snape sneered at me when I snorted in disbelief. I looked back, unrepentant.

"He's lost and looking for what's best to do now that he doesn't have his parents behind him, telling him what he needs to do. He won't follow the Dark Lord and become his whore. He won't align himself with Dumbledore or the Order for whatever reason. So it leaves him few options to choose from that he will accept. Why has he decided to align himself with you, of all people? Find out, Potter."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked warily. Snape gave me a smirk.

"I've given you lessons in the art of reading people, Potter. I've taught you much of what I know, as is crucial to my role. Use it. Study Malfoy and see what you come up with. This will be a test of how much you've actually listened to what I've said. Discreetly study him and you'll get a better understanding of him, which will give you better insight to him. You can learn more about a person sometimes from simply studying them, so when you speak to them you know what to look for if they lie or stretch a truth. Everyone gives a tiny unconscious gesture if they do. Even myself, though you'll be hard-pressed to find it," the smug bastard drawled.

I looked at the man incredulously. "You want me stalk Malfoy and find out what makes him tick?"

"In a manner of speaking; yes, but do it in a discreet manner," Snape rolled his eyes and took another sip of scotch.

"We only have about two weeks left," I said, speaking in reasonable tones. I would do as he said, because I was curious myself. "That's not a lot of time and I'm fairly new at this sort of thing." I wasn't protesting, mainly stating a fact.

Snape smirked, and when the amusement reached his eyes, I knew I was in for some trouble. "You're adequate at it, Potter, but its time to put that hard work to the test. You'll have more than enough time to do it, as Malfoy is taking refuge at Grimmauld Place this summer."

BASTARD! Snape is a grade A bastard with a capital B. He thinks this is _funny_? I will be training all summer; when the hell will I have time to study Malfoy? I wanted to wring the man's neck, but settled for glaring; only jumping slightly when the glass in my hand shattered and alcohol burned the cuts created by the glass. "You're a fucking bastard, Snape. Who the hell is going to allow Malfoy to stay there?! He can't be trusted!" I spat, flicking my hand to reassemble the glass. Snape took out his wand and flicked it at my hand, healing the cuts.

"You are," he said simply, not looking fazed, or even agitated. The man let me get away with far more than he used to and I always wonder why. "And Dumbledore."

"What?!"

"You're going to vouch for Malfoy with the rest of the Order – as is Dumbledore – and administer Veritaserum in front of everyone. You'll ask him questions to appease the masses and take personal responsibility of him. I'm sure he didn't tell you any of this, but you'll be told in a meeting with Dumbledore tomorrow. The details will be discussed there."

I stared at him blankly for a moment, before gritting my teeth and standing from my seat. I walked around to Snape and got directly in his face, pissed beyond words about this. Didn't I have a fucking say? "And who says I want to vouch for him? Who say I'm _going_to vouch for him? Malfoy isn't my responsibility and I don't see why I should take him on as one when I have a much bigger responsibility to fill," I hissed looking into Snape's fathomless black eyes.

Snape stared back, again unfazed, and I felt like slapping him. How could he rile me up like this? The truth is we enjoy pressing the other's buttons and seeing what reaction we'll get. Sort of like me and Malfoy, but I've lost interest in Malfoy's attempts. They're too childish. "You'll do it," he said smoothly, tilting his head back a bit. "Malfoy will answer to your orders and do as you say, and you know you can't resist that offer, that temptation. Can you?" he practically purred, looking at me. Damn the man for using that against me. I had told him about my dark thoughts and desires in confidence, and while he hasn't said anything to anyone – because they would have been on me, trying to stamp such things as quickly as possible – he has used it against me one other time. The day he taught me how to cast the Unforgivable Curses successfully. "Can you…Harry?" he repeated, speaking my name this time.

I groaned; a deep, primal sound from within me. "Damn you," I hissed, sliding my tongue out to lick my lips. He was playing on a weakness I had yet to perfect into an advantage for myself. He knew I had some unfathomable desire for him, for dominance, for power and control…for Malfoy, and he was playing on it like the bastard he is. "Damn you," I hissed again, and took his mouth in a rough kiss. I plundered his mouth as I have only two times before, in moments when I couldn't control the desire I felt. I slid my tongue alongside his and demanded – silently – that he yield to me, that he submit to me and my will. And he did, because the bastard was a manipulator and he knew how to play me. But, he was teaching me how to manipulate in turn and he'll be sorry he ever did. When I master it for myself, he'll be sorry he ever nurtured the monster that I had begun to release before I even realized it.

Finally, I pulled back with a sharp nip to his bottom lip. "Bastard," I rasped.

"Yes, but you don't care. You enjoy it even," Snape said his voice a tad huskier. It went straight to my cock, it did. I sighed.

"I'll do it, but I want something in return," I said, not completely naïve to manipulation. He arched an eyebrow at me, silently telling me to continue. "I do this – not the studying him part, but the rest of it – I want you teach me all you know about sex on my orders, by my rules – the majority of the time, at least." I said firmly, smirking at him. He narrowed his eyes and leant his head back further, studying me carefully. He was calculating it all of course, looking for loop holes and such. I know he won't decline though, because I know he has some indefinable desire for me as well. It is an unspoken tension that has laid between us for the past month and a half. Besides, he had something to gain also. Never let it be said that I don't know how a Slytherin mind works.

"Fine," he said in that smooth drawl of his. "I will compensate you for your help in this matter with Malfoy," he said sarcastically, tilting his head back down and smirking up at me.

"Bastard," I said, and pushed away from his seat. The tension was heavier than ever and I felt the need to get out of there. I looked at Snape as I snatched up my cloak. "I think I'll be going. Unless you have something you'd like me to do?" I arched an eyebrow and stared at him, amused at the brief flash in his eyes.

"The night is still young, Potter. We could continue a bit of your training now, or, perhaps, start on this new training that you seem to require?" he arched an eyebrow right back, the picture of smooth, controlled grace. I dropped my cloak and moved back towards him.

"The latter sounds like an excellent idea to me," I drawled, suppressing the smirk that tried to break free.

"Then what is it you wish me to teach you first?" Snape asked. I bit my bottom lip and thought about all the things I would like to learn, but what I would like to learn first. Then I smirked at him, because I know he would be surprised by my answer, but I also know he knew the art very well. He executed it perfectly when wanting something from me.

"Teach me the art of seduction," I answered. His eyebrows arched at this and the briefest flicker of surprise passed through his eyes, before he was smirking back at me.

"Very well, Potter," he purred, moving to rise from his seat. "Your wish is my command. I will teach you what it is to be the seducer and the seduced. You will be a master when I am through and I will become your willing slave, because that is what you truly crave, is it not?"

Damn him to the pits of hell! I merely nodded, for there was no point in lying when the truth was only too obvious. But it made me wonder. Was I biting off more than I could really chew?


	4. Chapter 4

And that night began my lessons of the art of sexuality

And that night began my lessons of the art of sexuality. Severus, for all his annoying little quirks, was a fabulous teacher. And, unlike with my training, he used a gentler approach than one would expect. He let me learn; by trial and error, mistakes made in plenty, but corrected in quick order, he let me learn what it was to be the seducer and the seduced. He never yelled or demeaned me in these lessons, as he had in the training and I saw it for what it was after about a month into it. He was giving me an opening to something. He was letting me in, even if just a bit. He was letting me behind that wall of his, but warning me in silent gestures not to make him regret it. Severus Snape is a complicated man, but once you learn his ways you know how to handle him. I learned, because that was what it was all about – learning. He taught and instructed and I learned and put it to use. Whether it be magic or sex; he taught, I learned and we got closer. No one could have predicted it happening, not even me, but happen it did.

I did do as Severus instructed and kept to my end of the deal. I vouched for Draco before the Order in a meeting two days before the end of the school year. Three days before the end of the year we – Severus, Dumbledore and me – had a meeting with Draco to discuss how things were to go. At the meeting with the Order I gave Draco Veritaserum, questioned him with the pre-arranged questions, and then took full responsibility for the blond. It shocked and appalled many that I would do such a thing, especially for a Death Eater who was to become Voldemort's whore. I stood by Draco and defended him against the onslaught of ridicule, as did Dumbledore. Severus put in his own word, even though we both knew they wouldn't hold much – if any – weight with some people. I defended Draco against my friends and the Weasley's, but I had let him know that if he did anything to make me regret this, I wouldn't hesitate to torture and kill him myself. I, of course, was alone with only Severus when I told him that, but the blond got the point.

Then the end of sixth year came and we were off to Grimmauld Place. I had spent time before he end of the year studying Draco, watching him and learning about him, even as I continued my training. Severus had told me many times that I needed to learn to read people, because I couldn't always depend on others to do it for me. This was my test to see if I had actually paid attention to what he said. I watched and what I slowly discovered, little by little, surprised me.

For one thing; Draco truly did follow my orders, though not always without complaints or insults. I mostly had him researching things for me at first. He was thorough and dedicated to the task, though I knew he wished for more. I gave it to him a little at a time. He did research, brewed potions and many other menial things like that at first. He wasn't allowed into Order meetings; a precaution for the Order more so than for him. I gave him a little bit by letting him tag along on my missions that Dumbledore assigned to me, Ron Hermione and a few others. No one was happy about his presence, but I made it clear that their opinions meant nothing to me. I didn't have time for petty fights.

Another thing I noticed about Draco was that he was verbally careful around me. What I mean, is that he seemed to always choose his words wisely. He looked at me with these unreadable looks I couldn't decipher and I was drawn more and more to learning about this blond who had been my enemy – and still was in many ways. During that summer I came to the conclusion that Draco rarely had an independent thought to himself before he found out he was to be Voldemort's whore. When we were alone it was slightly more obvious than when we were around others. It was in the way he gave me these brief questioning looks before doing something. It was in the way he always asked my opinion on something, and then altered his theory or view – or whatever – to include my thoughts on the matters. It was in the small things he did, that I noticed this about him. It intrigued me, as well as unnerved me. He wasn't a mindless puppet by any means of the words, but he did seem to require others – mainly me and sometimes Severus – to approve and agree, before he makes a final conclusion himself. When Severus said he was 'lost' it obviously meant something on a deeper level.

I wondered to myself a lot; where was the Draco Malfoy I had known since first year? Where was the insult slinging brat who sneered like it was all he could do, aside from smirking? Where was he? I found out the answers to these questions after a mission Dumbledore had sent a few of us on that I let Draco also join. It was that mission and the subsequent _after_ that gave me that final insight into Draco Malfoy – that last piece of the puzzle.

**4**

It was a routine mission for me and my team – Ron and Hermione, Fred and George, Hestia Jones and Remus and Malfoy and me. Voldemort had been doing a ridiculous amount of recruiting and now had more Death Eaters than ever before. Snape had said he had begun recruiting after fourth year and had only increased in doing so from then on. So, with so many Death Eaters – not to mention Dementors, werewolves, a small group of vampires and some giants and trolls – Voldemort was really taking liberties with the attacks he executed on an almost constant basis. We were lucky to not have five different battles, in five different locations, going on in one night, as that had become the norm. so that left the Ministry stretched thin – but not really, because Fudge won't let enough Aurors and Hit Wizards in for attacks, because he wants the Ministry protected, which I can understand, but still – and left us – the Order – to pull our weight even more. So the older students after much stern lecturing to follow the senior Order members' orders were let in to help on mission. I started to let Malfoy come along after awhile and he seems to being doing okay, though most of the team is wary of being hexed in the back.

Anyway, Snape had been able to get us information on five attacks happening, one of them being on the Ministry. Go figure. We were assigned to the Ministry along with several other senior Order members since this was said to be the main attack and therefore bigger than the others. Since we didn't know where the attack was going to begin – or how the Death Eaters were going to get in, in the first place – the eight of us broke into two groups of four with four Aurors who had joined the Order tagging along with each group. I and my group – Remus, Fred, Malfoy and me – were to take up post on level two in the Aurors department. There were teams on the majority of levels in the Ministry so we would be ready when they showed up, wherever and whenever they did. And as planned, the four of us were to hide out of the way until the fighting started. It was to seem like any other normal day around the Ministry and Auror department.

We sat in wait, but it wasn't long. Soon a group of Death Eaters had popped right in the middle of the Auror department. It had been confirmed then; there was a spy in the Ministry and they had tampered with the wards. Apparating into the Ministry shouldn't have been possible, especially not into the Auror department. Spells were immediately shouted and the battle started. It was quite a large group, about fifteen or so. Staying in our hiding place, Malfoy and I covertly started firing curses at the Death Eaters. Even as I did this, I noticed that more Death Eaters were Apparating in every few minutes. Finally, though, it became apparent that we needed to take a more active role. With a look and nod at – and from – Malfoy, the two of us darted from our hiding place and into the thick of the fighting. We were taking down Death Eaters as quick as possible; not killing them, but knocking them unconscious.

I hexed another Death Eater and gasped when I felt a spell just catch my shoulder. I looked at it and grimaced, recognizing the familiar signature of a Cutting Curse. I gritted my teeth and shot around, ducked, and then shot off a spell at the person who had got me. They fell to the floor and I immediately forgot them as I went about trying to help diminish the enemies' numbers. Finally, a few of the Aurors set up wards around the area the Death Eaters kept Apparating into and we stood back and watched. Soon, another group Apparated in and in the enclosure of the ward was immediately knocked unconscious.

"Haven't used that ward in years," a grey haired man said, panting slightly. "It was used back in the Dark Lord's first reign, but hasn't been used since."

There was general grunting before we decided to leave this area, ward in just in case and go to help anybody else we could. We headed for the Atrium, and when the lift opened it was to utter chaos, complete madness. There were black robed figures everywhere. The air was heavy with what I know to be magic and filled with shouts and screams. We all rushed out and began taking out Death Eaters as we moved. I lost sight of Malfoy, which worried me a bit, because I still didn't hold too much trust for the other boy, but I couldn't dwell on it too heavily. Not with everything going on around me. I ducked a spell that almost got me and shot off a stunner at the attacker. I panted as I took cover behind a section of debris, and then began casting spells at Death Eaters.

I was so busy with that, that I almost missed the brush against my back. I whirled; wand pointed and spells on the tip of my tongue, only to find Malfoy at my back, protecting it. I gave him a grim smile and turned back to my task. It wasn't a new occurrence to have Malfoy by my side or at my back, protecting me during a battle, especially if we'd gotten separated from the others. I didn't fully trust Malfoy, but I trusted him more than the others did.

I spied a Death Eater creeping up behind someone I vaguely recognized from Order meetings and shot a stunner at him, just as I heard a sharp cry of pain at my back. I turned around to see Malfoy clutching his shoulder with red stained fingers. I quickly erected a barrier –_ don't get distracted in battle, Potter, but if you do __**always**__ establish some kind of shield, _Snape said to me often ­– and moved in front of Malfoy. He had a look of pain on his face and he was biting his bottom lip hard.

"Shit, move your hand," I commanded and ignored his glare, giving him a hard stare in return until he moved his damned hand. I knew a good range of healing spells and thought of the best one to heal Malfoy's cut with. The sleeve of his robe was unattached but for a couple of thread it hung by and I could see the gash perfectly. It was deep and oozing dark red blood. Spell in mind, I laid my wand to Malfoy's cut and did a spell Pomfrey had taught me. I watched the cut begin to slowly knit together, before gritting my teeth and glancing at the shield as I could feel it weakening due to my distraction and something else. Four Death Eaters stood beyond it, slinging curse after curse at the shield. I turned back to Malfoy. "You okay to fight?" I asked, looking into his eyes which were too cloudy for my liking. There was nothing for it though. We were in the middle of a big, major battle and figuratively stuck between a rock – the slab of debris – and a hard place – the Death Eaters.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Malfoy said only a bit shakily, rising from his crouched position and clutching his wand tightly. I simply nodded, dropped the shield and slung out the first curse. It missed, but the Death Eaters seemed surprised by the attack, if only briefly. I dodged a spell shot at me, rolled to the side and spat out another. The Death Eater dodged though, and then was back up on their feet.

"I finally catch my blood-traitor son in battle," a cold voice drawled, a voice I knew all to well. "My son, who is fighting along side Potter, of all people, protecting him too, it seems. How disappointing." Another Death Eater stepped up from behind the first four, signaling them to cease fire. It was none other than Lucius fucking Malfoy. I'd know that voice anywhere. I gritted my teeth as the man stood arrogantly before the others, wand resting lazily at his side, like he had not a care in the world. I looked towards Malfoy and almost gaped at what I saw. The other man – because you couldn't live through all these battles and still be a boy, not in my opinion – looked so pale it was ridiculous. His eyes were wide and he stood stock still staring at his father and breathing heavily through slightly parted lips. What the fuck? I admit; in all the battles I've brought Malfoy into, we've never, not once, encountered his father. I had found it odd, but relieving as I didn't know how Malfoy would react. Now I knew, though, and I wasn't happy with the results. If Malfoy went fucking catatonic on me then it would be five to one. I may be great at what I've learned – _a prodigy, if I do say so myself, Mr. Potter, _I remember Dumbledore saying to me – I don't think I'm ready enough to hold my own against five well-trained Death Eaters. I'm not arrogant enough to believe so either.

"Fuck you, Lucius," I spat glaring at the man. Something in Malfoy's expression and actions made me feel this disgusted anger – even more so than when I found out about Malfoy being sold to Voldemort – at Lucius, and all I wanted to do was wipe the floor with the man. Literally.

"You turned my son against me and our Lord and cause, Potter. I'm going to kill you for that, but not before you see Draco…persuaded into coming back into the circle," Lucius drawled, smirking at me from that ugly mask. I heard a small sound and just barely glanced at Malfoy. He looked as if he was trying to become as small as possible. What the fuck? At a time I need Malfoy calm and _there_; the fucking bastard cowers in the corner like a scared kitten. This was _not_ making me feel reassured.

"I didn't turn your son against you, Lucius!" I said, discreetly flicking my left hand – not my wand arm – and concentrating on a wandless spell Snape had taught me. He had said knowing a limited amount of wandless magic in the case of my wand being taken from me was crucial. What he didn't plan for, was that I was able to do much more than 'limited' wandless magic. Anyway, I created a shield around Malfoy and me, because; no matter my feelings towards him, I didn't want him to get hurt worst or die. "You turned him against yourself when you decided to let Voldemort have him as his own personal whore."

Lucius shot a spell at me that bounced off the shield I had put up. I smirked at him and he scowled back. "Draco idiotically took his new position wrong, as he was always wont to do. Misunderstanding was a disgustingly strong weakness of his. He won't be anything as crass as a whore, Potter. He will be our Lord's consort! And when our Lord wins this war, Draco will hold a spot of power beside him. I explained this to him, didn't I Draco, only to have you distort it into something else. You're a complete disappointment sometimes," Lucius said, changing from talking to me and looking at me to talking and looking at Draco. Draco simply stared back with that same look in his eyes. I flicked my eyes back to Lucius and caught something just over the Death Eaters shoulders. Fred and Remus were coming up behind them. With a smirk, I dropped the shield and shot a spell at Lucius.

Okay, I'll admit it wasn't a stunner or anything to knock him unconscious, per say, but a spell to lock him inside himself experiencing his worst nightmares over and over again. I was upset and knew that a good, healthy and therapeutic _Crucio_ wasn't going to happen. That was the next best thing. Fred and Remus attacked also, taking down two more, even as I attack the fourth one. The fifth was taken out by Remus. With the Death Eaters incapacitated, I turned to Malfoy.

"The Death Eaters are retreating, Harry," Remus said, coming up behind me and looking down at Malfoy. He truly was a pitiful sight and my fucking responsibility to boot. I looked up and around me, peeking around the large block of debris and sure enough Death Eaters were Apparating out. The fallen were being left behind of course, because it was better to save themselves first. I sighed and looked back at Malfoy, running a hand through my hair which I had let grow to shoulder length. The blond seemed to be coming around with more awareness flicking back into his eyes, but I wasn't happy in any sense of the word. I glared at him and he looked back at me.

"You and me are going to have a little talk," I growled, feeling satisfaction at the imperceptible widening of eyes and the tightening of his mouth. He wasn't getting out of this one. I wasn't letting him.

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

After spending some time getting reports and checking up on everything at the Ministry and making sure everything was going to be okay enough, most of those in the Order headed back to Grimmauld Place. As soon as we got there, I directed Malfoy to a room where we could have our talk; ignoring everyone else I did so.

**5**

After shoving Malfoy into the room, slamming the door shut and throwing up Silencing and Locking Charms, I pointed to a couch in the room for Malfoy to sit on. He did, and then I strode across the room, coming to stop in front of him. He was looking down at his clasped hands and I was looking down at him. I wanted answers. I _needed_ answers! If Malfoy was going to stand by me like he pledged, then I want to know he can stand by me with anything. If he has issues with this bastard of a father then I want them solved or locked away when in battle. Lucius was captured once again tonight, but I hold little faith that they will keep him this time. Lucius is a slimy, cunning asshole – bottom line. If we were to run into him – or Narcissa – during a battle I want to know Malfoy will be able to deal with it and fight.

"What the fuck was that tonight?" I demanded in a harsh, unforgiving tone. Malfoy stayed silent for a long time. I was already short of patience and this wasn't helping any. I needed to get a grip and control myself and the situation better. I took several deep breaths, calming myself gradually. "Malfoy, I asked you a question and I want an answer. What happened tonight?"

"It's none of your fucking business, Potter," he said with bite. Oh, there's the Malfoy we all hate and want to torture.

"Excuse me, Malfoy," I said silkily, a trick I picked up from Snape. I saw him shift, but he didn't look up. "I do believe it is my business when you are supposed to be watching my back, but turn into a cowering moron instead. You pledged allegiance to me, Malfoy. _You_ pledged to _me_, remember that? No one else wanted to let you out of this house, let alone permit you on missions, but I stood by you and got you missions to do. You swore to me that you wouldn't have a problem if you came upon Lucius or Narcissa, but that was obviously a lie if today is anything to go by. So you see, Malfoy, it _is_ my business. If you can't stay alert enough to help me out if we come across Lucius – because I doubt he'll be in Ministry custody for long – or your mother in battle, than I need to know you'll be fine with it. I won't have someone who can't protect my back standing at it. Are we clear?

Now, you may not want to tell me what's going on, but until you fix it – and I'll check to see if you have – you're housebound."

Malfoy looked up finally his eyes narrowed and a scowl on his face. I sighed preparing myself for the fight to come. Malfoy had some issues he had to deal with and no amount of arguing, whining, ranting or fighting is going to change my mind until he has dealt with them. "Housebound? Why are you treating me like a fucking dog, Potter? Every other stupid mission I was there for you, at your side or back, protecting it. One little mess up and I'm bloody housebound? After all the other stuff, one little mess up is going to put me back to staying in this god-forsaken house? What the fuck gives you the right to that, huh, Potter?" he snapped question after question at me, standing and facing me. I stood and stared at him indifferently.

"What gives me the right? Malfoy, let me tell you something," I said, looking at the blond coldly. "You pledged your loyalty to me of your own free will. I didn't make you do it. I vouched for you and took responsibility when the Order wanted to lock you up in Azkaban right away. I didn't have to do that, but I did. I finally let you on missions and you have done well, but you never had to come across your father or mother on any of them until today. And what did you do? You cowered like a frightened animal unable to do anything but whimper pathetically," I sneered at him, stopping his protest with a glare.

"When I needed you most you weren't there. What gives me the right, you asked? You did, when you chose me over Voldemort. If you'd rather change your mind then go ahead and go be Voldemort's _whore_! You're not being held hostage here, despite what you may think. If I'm so oppressive and bad, then go ahead! Run along back to daddy and spread your legs for Voldemort. I'm giving you more freedom than you'll _ever_ get from Voldemort and if you want to throw that back in my face, then I can show you how restricting I can _really_ be. Don't fuck with me, Malfoy. Solve you issues or you won't like the consequences," I snarled the last part, glaring at him hard, before turning on my heel and heading for the door. I dismantled the wards as I approached and by the time I reached it they were down. I put my hand of the doorknob, but was stopped short.

"I thought you said I wasn't a hostage here? You're threatening me with restrictions and consequences, yet, I'm not hostage. Which is it, Potter?" the voice was quiet, but full of venom. I clutched the doorknob tighter, but I didn't turn around to face him. I didn't want to look at him in that moment.

"Solve your issues, Malfoy. Your time here and with me in the future can be pleasant or not-so-pleasant. I wont have you throwing my help back into my face, you ungrateful brat," I said lowly, but loud enough for him to hear. I then opened the door and left, not looking back once as I slammed the door behind me. Malfoy didn't know who he was dealing with. I made my way to the kitchen with heavy footsteps and heavy breathing that calmed as I breathed deeply and evenly. I wasn't happy at all about this situation. Malfoy was one annoying brat, but his pampered prince-like attitude didn't cut it with me. I stopped just outside the door and took a few more deep breaths, arranging my face into it not familiar blank mask. I show very little emotion if at all possible. As Snape told me; wearing my emotions so openly could be used against me and I don't need that kind of weakness anymore. With one last breath, I put my hand to the door and pushed it open.

Inside was a group of Order members seated around the table or just standing around. When I walked in the majority of them turned and looked at me. The ones who had been there had seen me drag Malfoy off, so I knew questions and derisive comments were on the tips of many tongues. I ignored them and their questioning gazes and moved to get myself a sandwich and something to drink. None of them knew _why_ I had dragged Malfoy off they just know that I did. Silence remained for a moment, before someone spoke.

"Is everything alright, Potter, or is there something about Malfoy Jr. we need to know?" Moody's gruff voice demanded. I continued to make my sandwich, but didn't look up as I spoke.

"Malfoy is my concern, Moody," I said smoothly. "If there's something wrong and I can handle it, I will do so. If I cannot, though, I will bring it before the Order." I spoke firmly and perhaps a bit coldly, but I wanted them all to understand. Malfoy was my responsibility and my charge. If there is something wrong I will fix it. But if it is too big for me to do so I will – grudgingly, mind, - alert the Order.

"Don't get cocky, Potter," Moody growled as I finished making my sandwich. I cut it in half, trying to reign in my irritation which had already been clawing at the surface of my control. "He is still the son of Lucius Malfoy, something you seem to have forgotten. People like them don't change." Harry sighed as he grabbed two bags of crisps and bottle of water. It was the same old argument from way back in June when Malfoy had first showed up.

Making sure I had everything – because I was _not_ eating in this kitchen with these annoying questions being thrown at me – I turned around and fixed my eyes of the scarred ex-Auror. "I have not forgotten whose son he is, Moody, and I don't think I ever will. I never expected him to change. I expected him to be loyal to me and help when I need it. He has done that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to my room to eat and be alone," I said calmly, before walking from the room. I made my way to my room at a leisurely pace – not in the mood for rushing. I was on the same floor as before, only in a different room. Ron and I had separate rooms now and Malfoy had a room across from mine. Once at my room I walked in and shut the door behind me, switching my chips to rest carefully under my arm. I flicked my wrist and several candles lit and began to glow brightly. I love candles, but I hate the inconvenience of not having regular muggle lighting. It would be so much easier.

I set my meal down on the desk that occupied my room, and then plopped myself down into the chair. I was exhausted, in all honesty, but I didn't feel like sleeping. I've hardly slept since Sirius's death and have become way too accustomed to not doing so. I've become an insomniac on a major scale. I ripped open a bag of crisp, shook some from the bag onto the plate with my sandwich, and then started in. I didn't think on my conversation with Malfoy, I was too stressed to do that. I could feel the tension in my neck and shoulders and bitterly thought that causing Malfoy physical pain may not make it better, but will make me happy all the same and that was just perfect to me. With all the attacks lately I've been more stressed than usual, but the positive thing of all this was that I got good practice on what I've been taught.

I finished off my meal quickly, leaving an unopened bag of crisps and half a bottle of water for later. I wouldn't be sleeping, most likely, and even if I did I would be sleeping long. So, a snack for later was in order. I didn't particularly feel like leaving my room. I sighed and rose from the chair to sit on the floor. I was still way too tensed and stressed and I could feel the heaviness of my magic beginning to leak beyond my shield. Crossing my leg pretzel-like, I took in a deep breath closed my eyes and began to meditate.


End file.
